


in the right light

by drellis



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, lovers to friends w a complicated history to enemies to lovers lmao - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drellis/pseuds/drellis
Summary: Mel was one of the attending nurses who barely made it out with her life. She dropped her instrument, its clatter muffled by the sound of wailing, and grabbed Abby as she fell. Abby remembers how fragile her hands felt and how they still held her together all the same.
Relationships: Abby/Mel, Abby/Mel (The Last of Us), Mel/Owen (The Last of Us)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. I am not a writer but I am going to force my dusty little brain to create this because I want it to exist. If you want to talk to me or ask any questions I'm @butchabbyanderson on tumblr !

It isn’t the blue light of dawn that comes to wake her as it usually is. It’s a familiar dream that raises bile in her sleeping throat. She is startled awake when she feels a firm hand on her shoulder and a voice come warbling through the sound of sirens.

“Abby, easy. You okay, Abs?”

Abby’s body nearly folds over with how fast she sits up. She blinks a few times before Manny takes shape before her. There is a sharp pain radiating from her neck and she cringes at the tightness, reaching to soothe it. The physical tension and burning in her body wasn’t new and surely wasn’t uncommon after dreaming of her father’s death. She focuses on her breathing - _in, hold, out_ \- before addressing Manny’s question, looking up at him with bleary, tired eyes. His hand is still floating out near her shoulder, ready to comfort her if she needs it, and his face is wrapped in concern. He's a good friend.

“Yeah, just, yknow. What’s up?

Manny knows her well enough to understand the vague answer. He gives her a reassuring pat on the back before straightening himself out.

“Been searching everywhere for you. Isaac wants us at the front,” he says as he adjusts the straps on his pack.

Abby drops her arm with a sigh and looks at him incredulously, “What? Are you serious?”

“Afraid so. We should hustle.”

* * *

She bickers and laughs with Manny, slowly adjusting to waking life as they wind through the fluorescent-lit halls leading to the cafeteria. Abby allows herself a moment to breathe in the sanitized scent of the large room as she overlooks the tables bursting with people. No certain familiar face, no dark eyes seeking her out in the crowd. Good, she’s not here. 

At greater ease, she makes some sparse but pleasant conversation with Jordan and Whitney before settling herself in line to grab a quick breakfast, staring ahead and losing herself in chatter.

“Ey, tenemos prisa. Dame tres burritos.”

Her head snaps to the side at the sound of Manny’s voice. He has cut to the front of the line, and is speaking to one of the cooks.

“Hey man, there’s a line!” one soldier shouts.

“We’re going all the way to the front, man, come on,” Manny says, gesturing to Abby. The soldier mutters and shrugs, stepping back. Abby presses her lips into a thin line.

“Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Manny, what are you doing?”

He turns and steps towards her with three burritos wrapped in foil, offering one to her in an extended hand. Abby rolls her eyes. While their crops and livestock were doing well, the WLF had just lost a hatchery. Even soldiers had to cut back a bit so that extra food could be dried and stored. 

“Why do you have three? Put one back. You know--”

Manny interrupts her by cupping her hand and placing one of the burritos into her palm.

“Now don’t freak out,” he says, “Mel’s coming with us.”

Abby does not find words in that moment, but her muscles immediately tense. Her teeth grind together and she watches as her friend blows past her towards a set of double doors.

He calls over his shoulder, “Where’s your pack? In the room?”

* * *

“I think you get a kick out of making me uncomfortable,” Abby says through a mouthful of egg and salsa. The double doors slam closed behind her, and she follows Manny as he charges up the steps.

“You two have barely said a word to each other since Jackson. I care about you both and I’m tired of all the bullshit,” his voice echoes in the cement stairwell.

Abby glares at his bun as it bounces up the stairs, and hopes he can feel it. 

“Yeah, well. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, she doesn’t want to talk. Nothing about it that’s your business.”

“You guys need to talk about it.”

“About what? I’m not her girlfriend anymore.”

“No, but you’re her friend.”

Abby grunts noncommittally and takes another bite. They had been good, before Jackson, even after they broke up. Abby had even felt glad that Mel found a relationship with Owen. It was Joel and what happened in the mansion that changed it, though she didn’t know why. They had been successful and all of their friends had survived. What more could you hope for?

“She wanted Joel dead as much as the rest of us.”

  
“You know her, though. She hasn’t hurt people like that before,” Manny says as he makes it to the landing of the stairwell, pushing open another set of double doors, “Just try to get along, okay? For me?”

Abby concedes, finishing her breakfast and crumpling the foil in her hand, “Fine, I’ll try. But it’s up to both of us, not just me.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” Manny says through a smile as he jogs down the hallway towards their shared room. He unlocks the door and holds it open for Abby.

“I’m gonna go grab Mel, we’ll meet you here. Get your things ready.”

* * *

She lets out a long winded sigh as she sits on her bed, pack between her legs, rubbing her face with her elbows on her knees. She spots the picture of her father on her nightstand next to a few books and reaches out for it. Rubbing the wooden frame with her thumbs and seeing his smile ebbs some of the tension in her body. 

“Hey dad,” she says, voice light, “You’d have a good solution to this, huh?” 

She sets it back down gently, “Miss you.”

It’s in this moment that the door opens and Manny enters with Mel close behind him. 

“Knock, knock. Ready to roll?” Manny says while Abby tightens the laces on her boots.

“Yep, just about,” she finishes up, then shrugs on her pack and stands. She makes eye contact with Mel for the first time in weeks. She feels the things she had expected: nervousness, fear, guilt. But it’s not making her stomach roil, and is much less intense than she thought it would be. Maybe she can do this.

“Hi,” she says to her with a polite smile.

“Hey,” Mel replies, one hand holding the strap of her backpack while the other traces small circles on her rounded stomach. The motion catches Abby’s attention.

“They actually cleared you for active duty.”

Mel snorts, “Yeah, barely.”

“You could probably get a stay if you wanted,” Abby offers. She misses the warning look Manny gives her.

“Yeah, but I’d rather not sit around if I don’t have to.”

“And Owen’s okay with this?”

There’s a pause before Mel replies, face neutral but voice challenging, “Why would it be up to Owen?”

Mel turns around to face Manny and sticks her thumbs into the straps of her backpack, “We have to grab Alice on the way,” she mentions before making her way towards the door.

Manny puts his hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“Hey. Do better,” he says, before turning around and following Mel out the door, leaving Abby alone.

* * *

The garage is big and cold and empty besides the sound of a mechanic working on one of the trucks and the garage door being pulled open.

“Alice gets shotgun!” Manny shouts as he slips into the driver’s seat of their assigned vehicle. Alice’s furred head perks up underneath Mel’s hand and she runs to the open door, hops into the passenger seat, and gives Manny’s ear a lick in greeting. 

Abby’s face twists as she sees the only other seats are in the open truck bed - benches that face directly towards each other, “Dude, Mel’s pregnant.”

“She could use the fresh air! Give you two a chance to talk!” his voice floats through the window.

She scoffs and looks towards Mel.

“He’s real subtle,” she offers, trying to lighten the mood. To her relief, Mel gives a small chuckle. They settle into the back and the truck sputters and hums to life, and lurches out of the gate. Daylight spills over the two of them, dappled by the foliage. It’s warm, and a soft wind is playing with strands of her hair and tickling her face, exaggerated by the movement of the truck. 

Abby tucks the loose hairs behind her ear and lets herself really look at Mel. She’s wearing a gray knitted sweater and some thin gloves. The dark brown strands of her short hair are flipping and shaking in the wind and she is wringing her hands together, eyes on the floor. 

“You feeling cold?” Abby asks, “I thought pregnancy was supposed to make people warmer?”

Mel looks up in surprise, brown eyes catching the light.

“Um, yeah, it usually does. Just some mild anemia making me chilly. It’s pretty normal, we’ve just been low on prenatal vitamins and I’ve had to cut my dosage.”

Abby cringes apologetically, “Sorry. I’ll tell Isaac we’re low and see if he can ask patrols to keep an eye out.”

“Thank you.”

They stay silent after that as Manny navigates the truck through pale golden fields of wheat and, as they leave the perimeter of the stadium, trees and lush undergrowth. Abby closes her eyes and lifts her head to face the sky, savoring the sun on her face.

“How’ve you been sleeping these days?”

Her eyes blink open at Mel’s question. Mel is leaning forward in her seat, squinting at the dark circles Abby knows are underneath her eyes. No use lying.

“Not...great.”

“Do you want me to get you something from the pharmacy? Melatonin used to help.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just gonna wear myself out. I’ve been picking up a few extra assignments.”

“You _and_ Owen. Haven’t seen him in two weeks.”

Abby looks confused, “Shouldn’t he be making preparations instead of trying to get himself killed?”

Mel considers that for a moment and frowns. 

“Maybe. But he’s capable, and you’re doing the same.”

A scoff from Abby, “Yeah, sure, but _I_ don’t have a baby on the way.”

Mel's face turns stony and she distances herself, leaning back in her seat, eyeing her, “That is also true.”

The silence returns, longer this time, and they drive under the shade of a crumbling overpass. Neither of them want to address the negative tension. Abby fiddles with her guns while Mel attempts, in vain, to fix her hair.

Eventually, Mel tries an olive branch.

“Heard we lost a hatcher--”

She is interrupted by a loud whistle and frantic hooves pounding the earth. Abby whips her head around, braid slapping her arm as she instinctively reaches for her rifle. She can see several hooded figures on horseback, some making quick work of the distance to the truck, some drawing weapons - all of them menacing. A gust of wind blows back the hood of one of the figures, a particularly cruel looking man with his face contorted in rage, wrinkling the puckered pink lines running along his cheeks.

Fucking Scars.


	2. On Foot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tentative update schedule is Whenever It Happens. (:

“Ambush!”

“Take them out!”

“Stay low. Here,” Abby says, handing off her already loaded pistol to Mel. 

Mel nods and makes herself as small of a target as possible, then takes aim at the closest Scar - the one with his hood blown back. Spit is flying out of the sides of his mouth as he shouts, pushing his horse at a punishing pace as he gains inches on them. Mel ends him quickly, and Abby watches his nose pop like a balloon.

Abby doesn’t have time to admire Mel’s work. She levels her rifle at the riders, waiting a moment until they clump together before letting loose a shot. A screech tells her she made contact. She and Mel trade fire with them, dropping Scars and horses, but not nearly enough. More and more of their bullets are missing; the scenery is moving by at a rapid pace and the truck jolts with Manny’s impromptu maneuvering.

“Fuck, they just keep coming!” Abby shouts as she jams in another round. As she fumbles with it, she hears the sound of breaking glass behind her. The smell of burning metal sucks into her nose. She turns towards the front of the truck to see fire creeping along the hood and smoke blocking Manny’s windshield. 

“I can’t see!” 

His voice is panicked.

Abby’s heart starts beating fast and her mind goes blank. She doesn’t have an idea on how to fix this on the fly, and shots are whizzing past her back. She can’t focus on much else.

“Manny!” she yells up to him, a plea. Please don’t let us die here.

His voice breaks through clattering and popping in the air, “Hang on!”

Abby drops down. Mel is crouched in the back corner of the truck bed, one arm bracing herself on the bench as the other clutches her pack against her stomach.

“Fuck, fuck!” she says, expression frantic, and looks at Abby. Her face is pale and her bangs stick to her forehead. Her wide, dark eyes search Abby’s face for reassurance but find none. 

“Okay, shit, okay,” Abby whispers as she feels the truck start to veer off course, downhill.

Abby grabs the bench next to Mel and the open window in the back of the truck cabin, knuckles white with the force of her grip, bracing herself around the smaller woman. Mel grabs Abby’s arm to steady herself as the truck picks up speed, plowing uncontrollably downhill through the thin trunks of trees. They snap and branches fly past the women in the truck bed. Abby hopes they create an obstacle for the Scars behind them, or that they at least don’t decapitate her.

The truck shudders through the brush for a few more moments before it rolls on four flat tires into the loading area of a sprawling industrial building. Abby breathes for what feels like the first time, gulping air, before controlling it - _in, hold, out_.

“You okay?” she asks Mel, voice shaking. She stands and watches the decimated wood behind her for any sign of movement, and rubs her arm where she can feel bruises forming in the shape of Mel’s hand. 

“Yeah!” Mel says, also standing on trembling legs, “Yeah.”

She drops out of the truck bed, following Manny and Alice to a loading bay door. Abby quickly catches up with them. 

Manny’s eyes flick from the door to the woods. They are in the shade, but the sun is bright, and their truck smokes and gleams.

“We’re too exposed, they have us in a funnel,” he says, “I need to lead them away. Unit Bravo may be near here. I’ll lead them to our guys and then we’ll find you.”

A whistle pierces through the air in the distance and the atmosphere grows hurried.

“Abs, do you hear me?”

Abby trusts Manny and knows he can take care of himself, but that doesn’t stop the spike of fear rising in her chest. She suppresses it and nods.

“If it all goes to shit, we’ll meet up at the FOB. May your survival be long,” she confirms.

“May your death be swift. Keep her safe, Melon.”

Mel gives him a soft smile, “You got it.”

Manny sprints away from the two of them, rounding a corner before letting some bullets loose into the trees.

“¡Pendejos!” he yells between the pop of shots, voice fading as he creates some distance, “¡Te voy a partir la madre!”

Abby grabs the handle of the loading door and hopes it’s not locked. She yanks it up and is relieved when it gives. 

“In, quickly,” she says, bracing the door open with one arm and boosting Mel through the gap with the other. Alice follows and Abby pulls herself in, lowering the door slowly and silently. The room she enters is dark, but from the echoing sound of Mel’s footsteps and Alice’s paws scraping against the floor, she can tell it is looming. Her eyes adjust to find tall metal shelves that reach up to the ceiling and empty palettes strewn across the floor. The glint of a container catches her eye.

Fuck, yes, a small alcove of unscavenged supplies. Enough for a pipe bomb. She gathers the materials and crafts it, checking the loading bay door over her shoulder. If they got it open, someone else could too.

Abby hears the squeak of rusty hinges somewhere in front of her. 

“Thank God. I found a way out,” Mel calls back to her, voice low as she peeks her head through a simple wooden door, “Looks clear from here, but there’s a lot of places to hide.”

Abby, Mel, and Alice slowly creep through the door and into what Abby now recognizes as a shopping center. It smells like metal, wet wood, and mold. It does seem clear, until Abby pokes her head around a corner to search an aisle and finds a runner weeping into its hands. 

“Shit,” she whispers, sticking out her arm to block Mel from walking past her and into the open, “there’s at least one runner up there. I’ll take care of it and you check the other side?”

Abby points across the aisle to the next set of shelves.

Mel nods, then gives Alice a silent command to sit and wait. She stays low as she crosses the aisle, careful and silent, and disappears from Abby’s sight. Abby refocuses on the runner in front of her. It dies without a sound, choking against her bicep.

“Abby!”

She drops the body of the runner and she’s moving before she can even think. She rounds the corner at the end of the aisle and spots Mel twenty feet in front of her with a runner at her feet, dead. Another one is pushing her to the ground. It kneels over her, and then swipes at her face. Abby is running. She closes the gap in a second. She grabs the infected’s shoulder with her left hand and rips it off of her, shoving it to the floor facedown and tackling it with her body. It tries to stand, but is no match for her strength as she pins it. Using her other hand, she wraps its ponytail around her fist and slams its head into the cement floor one, two, three times, before a dark decaying sludge bursts out of its skull.

Abby releases her hold on it and stands up after a few seconds, breathing heavily from the adrenaline. No more of them jump out of the woodwork, despite all the noise. She sighs and wipes her hands on her pants.

Mel’s eyes are glazed over as she stares at the runner’s body.

“You okay?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, I’m fine. It saw me while I was taking the other one down. Just should have been smarter about it is all.”

“I didn’t hear it either. Not your fault,” Abby says, reaching her hand out in an offer to help Mel up. Mel politely refuses with a small wave of her hand and hauls herself up with one hand on her back.

She flashes Abby an exhausted but determined smile, “Alright, let's get going.”

* * *

“Abby. This reminds me of your dad’s greenhouse.”

They had found themselves in a beautiful and verdant greenhouse after slipping out of the building. The progeny of flowers abandoned on shelves decades ago flourish and overtake their environment, swallowing it. Light shines down in bright peachy patches. Butterflies flit through the humid space and cast small shadows in the grass. Alice goes tearing off after one, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth.

“Shouldn’t. All _these_ plants are alive,” Abby jokes. She smiles at the memory of her father’s large hands tending to seedlings. For a surgeon, he was rather clumsy with them.

Mel hums in response, and is quiet for a minute before laughing suddenly, “I kept thinking they died because he couldn’t look at the room the same after he caught us messing around in there. Poor plants.”

Abby’s face falls. 

“Hm,” she says tonelessly. 

Mel looks at her and realizes her overstep. She glances around for anything to help her change the subject.

“Wait, I think that’s our way out,” she says as an opening in the glass, wreathed in vines, catches her eye.

“I think you’re right.”

They leave the greenhouse with Alice in tow. The store must have been larger than Abby had thought - the woods were easily a block farther now. She could barely see the treetops peaking over the various buildings. What she does see, however, is a tall building with a well-known banner flapping at its front. Relief floods through her body.

“FOB’s dead ahead. No Scars in sight, but keep an eye out.”

Mel peers out into the distance, walking ahead of Abby, but sees no movement. 

“God, remember when we could pass through this area without getting jumped by Scars?”

“Getting nostalgic about the truce? Easier days, huh?”

“Yeah. Manny says it was ‘too easy’,” Mel says with exasperation, “I love the guy but…”

“Well, we did let our guard down.”

This causes Mel to turn and face her. She is frowning deeply.

“They were kids, Abby. You’re not seriously defending what we did, are you?”

“No, I’m just saying that something would have happened eventually anyway.”

Abby recognizes anger in Mel’s face as she speaks, the little flaring of her nostrils a tell, “What’s that thing Isaac always says? ‘How long ‘till an asshole on their side or ours ruins the whole thing?’ It’s funny how much influence he has over you.”

“Uh, what does that mean?”

Mel inhales sharply, then lets out a long sigh, “Nothing. Come on, let's go.” She breaks into a jog toward the end of an alley only to see that it is fully barricaded.

“Shit. Blocked this way,” Mel calls out to Abby, who is checking the windows for any sign of life, squinting with her hands blocking the sun from her eyes.

Mel finds a building that seems to let out on the other side of the barricade. She tries the door.

It doesn’t open, even with her body's full weight against it. She mutters to herself, “Blocked again. Cool.”

Mel looks to the side of the building, hoping for a window. Instead she finds crumbling brick and a cable that swings a few feet above her head, leading up to the roof. It looks like it’s caught on something. She definitely isn’t tall enough to reach it and she suspects Abby isn’t either, but she has an idea.

“Hey, over here.”

Abby jogs over, cheeks and shoulders already pink from sun exposure. Idiot. She never wore sunscreen no matter how many times Mel had asked back when they were on good terms. Mel figures that a few things really never do change.

“I need you to boost me up to that cable. I’m going to climb up to the roof for a better view so we can make a plan.”

Abby looks at the cable, up to the roof, and back at Mel. 

“Okay…” she says hesitantly, but crouches down and laces her fingers together. Mel steps up into Abby’s hand and feels the air whoosh around her as she is tossed into the air. She grips the cable, hard, and wraps her legs around it, suddenly thankful that her gloves stop her sweaty hands from sliding. She hasn’t done this since before she was pregnant, but her hold is strong, and she hopes muscle memory takes over.

It does. It is a silent and tense few minutes as Mel hauls herself towards the roof, Abby staring upward after her. Mel crests the top and stands on shaking legs. She was definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

“I’m up! It’s clear!” Mel shouts down to Abby, whose bulky frame looks amusingly small at this distance. Abby gives her a tiny thumbs up.

Mel turns around to find a massive broken skylight and, unfortunately, no rooftop access door. She peers over the edge at the barricade and sees that this building is the only visible way around it. 

“God damn it. Skylight it is.”

She peers into the expanse of the room underneath her. The sun is directly overhead, giving Mel enough light to see what was blocking the door. A huge, metal filing cabinet, taller and wider than her. There’s no possible way she could move it by herself. Great. Awesome.

She peeks over the side of the building again, “I’m gonna need you up here!”

Mel swears she can see Abby’s eyes widen at the prospect.

“How?” is her response, faint in Mel’s ears.

Mel turns to where she saw the cable was snagged - around an exposed iron rod - and unwraps it, tossing the rest of the cable down. Abby pauses for a moment, a few breaths, before tearing her way up. As Abby gets closer to the top, Mel reaches out her hand to pull her the rest of the way. She accepts, and Mel can feel that Abby’s hands are shaking.

They both stand next to each other on the edge of the skylight, looking all the way down to the floor below. 

“Damn,” says Abby in a trembling voice.

“Yeah. We can use the cable to get most of the way down and then we can open the door for Alice.”

Abby makes a face, but agrees, “Alright. If I plummet to my death, Manny is going to be pissed at you.”

Mel decides to tease her.

“Oh? So you don’t think I could take him?”

Abby chuckles, “No, you could, I just want to be around to see it.”

Mel winds up the cable and tosses it down. It swings wildly and disturbs long settled dust.

“Better start praying we both make it, then.”

* * *

“Alice, come!”

“Come on, Alice!”

Abby props the cabinet up with her shoulder while Mel holds open the door. Alice comes bounding in moments later.

“Thank fuck,” Abby sighs as she lowers the weight to the ground. Holding up that fucking thing was almost worse than climbing a 100 foot tall building with nothing but a cable to support her. Almost.

The two women finally get a chance to take in their surroundings. This room is quite bare, something of an office that had been stripped of everything but the desk. There is an open door frame leading to an adjacent room. Mel goes through it, Alice on her heels.

“Wait up,” Abby jogs after them and finds herself in awe. A boat hangs suspended from the ceiling, far above her head. Ivy creeps along the floor and up an absolutely massive overhead door. She tries to imagine what kind of boat would call for something that large, and fails.

“Some kind of...boat workshop,” she muses, “This is really cool.”

Mel nods, equally impressed, “Let’s remember this place. Command’s always looking for spare parts.”

“Good call.”

Abby finishes taking in her surroundings and spots a crank next to the giant door. A way out and, after that, a straight shot to the FOB.

“I’m gonna hold it while you find something to prop it open,” she says, tilting her head towards the crank.

"Okay," Mel crouches by the door, readying herself, "Three, two, one."

Abby starts turning the crank, veins popping in effort. It lifts a few feet and just as Mel and Alice slip through, the crank gives a waning creak and breaks off. The door crashes down and the sound rattles through the building.

“Fuck! Mel, are you okay?” Abby yells as she tosses the useless piece of metal aside. She waits for an answer and gets none, “Mel! Do you hear me?”

Nothing.

“Mel!” she shouts as she pounds on the door, the collision with the thin metal reverberating.

The answer she gets isn’t a joke from Mel or Alice’s bark. It’s the scratching of nails against the outside of the door, and the guttural scream of a clicker.


End file.
